


pulsing rush

by witching



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Banter, Come Eating, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Drinking, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Humor, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Smut, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: there is the heat of love,the pulsing rush of longing, the lover's whisper,irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.// the iliad
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 268
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	pulsing rush

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i'm publishing this four months to the day after the idea first occurred to me. it was supposed to be a quick little pwp thing but it mutated into this, the longest oneshot i've ever written. there is still no plot. just a lot of nonsense and love. please enjoy.

It was a nice day. The sky was the kind of blue that said there was no need to check the weather, it would continue to be beautiful no matter what. The kind of blue that gives even the wiliest demon a run for their money vis-à-vis temptation. 

Crowley had insisted upon leaving his umbrella and his jacket at the bookshop, claiming that it was too much clutter to keep in the Bentley, too heavy to needlessly lug around; Aziraphale had done the same, falling victim to the demon's dangerously persuasive tone.

So when they were walking their usual route around the park and they felt the first raindrops, the angel turned indignant quickly, throwing out an  _ I told you so _ approximately every five seconds. Crowley neglected to point out just how easily Aziraphale had accepted his flimsy reasoning, just how little convincing he’d actually needed.

When the downpour became powerful enough that it simply wasn't worth the effort to keep themselves dry via miracle, they decided to relocate to the Bentley. Rather than driving back to the bookshop immediately as he would have done any other day, Crowley sat down, leaned his seat back, propped his feet up on the dashboard, and turned up the heat. 

Aziraphale looked over at him, bemused. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting comfortable, angel."

"Why?"

Leaning closer to the angel, Crowley spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "To be honest, we haven't been driving much lately, and she misses you."

Aziraphale blinked. "She? The… the car?" He waited for an answer, but the demon simply looked at him, his eyebrows raised as if to urge Aziraphale to be more discreet. "Are you trying to trick me somehow?"

Crowley made a face of melodramatic hurt, clutching a hand to his chest. "I cannot believe you would insinuate something like that."

"That you would trick me?"

"No," Crowley replied, "that I would be so  _ obvious _ about it. I'd like to think that if I wanted to trick you, it would take you a bit longer to figure it out."

"Ah," the angel nodded, a nearly imperceptible smile playing on his lips. He reached out to pet the dashboard gently, cooing at the car. "I'm sorry, old girl. Dreadfully impolite of me to neglect you so."

Crowley grinned. "There you go," he said, though whether he was speaking to the angel or the car was unclear. There was a pause, and then he turned fully in his seat to face Aziraphale. "Would you reach in the glove compartment and grab me the pinot noir?"

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow at him, but did as he was requested. "So we're settling in, then?" he asked, handing the bottle to Crowley.

"Yeah, I mean. We had plans to go to the park. We're still… at the park."

"Alright," the angel conceded, moving his own seat back to get more comfortable. "What were we talking about, before it started raining?"

Crowley pondered it for a moment. "I think we were discussing the origins of unattainable beauty standards."

Nodding sagely as the conversation came back to him, Aziraphale smiled. "Right," he muttered tightly. "As I was saying, it's definitely down to your lot. Heaven had no hand in it." 

A sharp laugh escaped Crowley before he snapped his mouth shut. "Oh, yeah, no hand in it." He pressed his lips together to stifle another laugh. "Heaven loves conformity, angel. A set of rigid, arbitrary rules that humans have to follow in order to be deserving of acceptance from others? They'd eat it up."

"Th- that's – that's not how it is at all," the angel protested weakly. "They've, erm. More important things to concern themselves with, surely."

"Surely," Crowley mocked.

"In any case, it's – well, it's all about sex, no?"

Crowley choked on a gasp. "The what?"

"All those rules and all of the hubbub about it," Aziraphale explained. "It's all about sex appeal. That's your wheelhouse."

"It most certainly is  _ not _ my wheelhouse," said Crowley, his voice strained. "I don't know how you could have gained that impression."

Aziraphale's eyebrows pulled together, a deep crease forming between them, and he watched closely as Crowley raised his bottle of wine to his lips and downed half of it in one breath. "I didn't mean you, specifically," he replied, as if talking the demon down from a ledge. "I just meant – you know, Hell. In theory."

Rolling his eyes, Crowley took another sizable gulp of wine. "Well, you could've bloody said so," he muttered under his breath.

For a beat, the angel simply frowned and stared, and then he shook his head, inhaling deeply. "Are you quite alright?"

"M'fine," Crowley shrugged. "Just – threw me a bit."

"My apologies," Aziraphale murmured gently, and then, brightening: "Would you like some more wine?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Crowley took the proffered bottle of sauvignon blanc with his left hand, using his right to polish off the last of the pinot noir. "You planning on joining me, or are you just gonna sit there while I drink my entire supply of wine?"

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, amused. "You say that as if it's a finite supply," he pointed out, opening the glove compartment again. He pulled out five reds, two whites, and eight rosés one after the other before turning to face the demon again. "A clever feature, I must say. Though perhaps your car is not the best place to keep your bottomless wine cellar?"

"Sss'convenient. I don't use it when I'm actually driving."

"It seems to me that you could just as easily pull a bottle of wine from your pocket," the angel mused, popping open a bottle. "Or a purse, like Nanny Pippin."

Through the haze of alcohol and his own laughter, Crowley struggled to speak clearly. "Y'mean Marrr – Mmm – Mary Poppins?"

Aziraphale nodded. "Yes, him."

The demon's hands flailed about in the air for a few moments as he stammered through an attempt to correct his friend. "She'sss a role model, for sure, but – but." He paused, frowning in thought. "I like to use the Bentley. Great for storage. Like Doctor Who."

"Ah, yes," nodded the angel, placating, at this point nearly finished with his first bottle of wine. "You're just like Doctor Who, my dear."

"Thank you," Crowley slurred, preening. "It's pretty much natural, really. Don't even have to try."

Aziraphale gave a broad, glowing smile.  _ "He _ certainly works in sex appeal," he murmured.

"Whasssat mean?"

"Nothing at all," the angel answered. "Simply that, well. From what I've seen, he does a lot of – you know. Kissing."

Crowley sniffed. "How's that revelant – prertinent – mattering? Dunno why y'keep bringing it up."

Aziraphale's mouth hung open dumbly for a few long moments. "I'm… curious," he said slowly. 

"Curious how?" Crowley lifted not one, but two empty bottles from the angel's hand, noting that the volume of wine he’d consumed in such a short time would have been all but impossible for a human, and gave a low whistle. "Christ, angel, y're really catching up."

"Mmhmm," Aziraphale hummed absently. "Just… I'm curious how the – how your, you know, the demon work. How it works without lust. N'why you're so. Jumpy about it."

"M'not jumpy," Crowley grumbled. "Jussst not my favorite subject to discuss. Hard enough as it is."

"What's hard enough?" the angel asked, thankfully too inebriated to latch onto the obvious innuendo.

Crowley slumped down in his seat, his shoulders curling inward. He was quiet, looking deliberately and intently straight ahead, and then he spoke nearly inaudibly. "Hard enough just being near you all the time, without having to  _ talk _ about it."

His brow wrinkled deeply, Aziraphale shifted closer, unconscious of the movement. "Me? What’s it got to do with me?"

Although his gaze was still focused strictly on anywhere but Aziraphale, Crowley felt him leaning in, felt the warmth radiating from the angel's skin. He fought the urge to mirror the movement, to get even closer, as well as the equally strong urge to run away very fast.

"Angel."

"Yes?"

Crowley blew a long, low breath out through his teeth, having the presence of mind to sober up a bit. "I don't do those things because it'd be like – like opening the floodgates. I want… so much, so bad, all the time, and the only way I can stay sssane is by keeping it all locked down."

Aziraphale moved closer, on purpose this time, and continued drinking. "And what would happen if you did… open the floodgates, as it were?"

"You're drunk, angel," Crowley deflected.

"A very astute observation." The angel stumbled over his words, close enough now that his breath came in warm puffs against Crowley's skin. "But it's not an answer."

"Okay." Crowley chewed on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. "Er. So. If I were to do… that… then… I do believe I would disintegrate."

"Don't think that's possible."

"Yeah, well. Lots of things aren't possible," the demon mumbled. "Think it's time to go home."

Aziraphale pouted. "Why?"

"You're very, very drunk."

"Crowley," the angel whined. "You won't answer my  _ question." _

Crowley shook his head, sobering up fully and starting up the car. "You don't want to hear it, Aziraphale. I told you."

"You didn't," Aziraphale said. "You said you'd disintegrate."

"Well, d’you  _ want _ me to disintegrate? Is that what you want?"

A sound that could only be described as a giggle floated out of the angel's throat. "Of course not," he sighed, pressing himself into Crowley's side and wrapping his hands around the demon's bicep.

"Angel, I'm trying to drive," Crowley choked, seizing up at the warmth of the angel's fingers pressing into his skin through his shirt. "I've got to pay attention."

Aziraphale stroked his fingers lightly up and down the demon's arm. "Your shirt is so soft," he whispered reverently. "How do you get a shirt this soft? And have you been lifting weights? Your muscles are very… present. And you smell very good. What is that smell?"

"Er. It's. Erm." Crowley gave a vigorous shake of his head, almost certain that he was dreaming, or possibly hallucinating. "It's – that was a lot of questions."

"Well, you still haven't answered my  _ first _ question,” Aziraphale huffed.

Crowley rolled his eyes, trying not to show how affected he was by the conversation. "Why do you need to know so badly?"

"Because I don't like that you hide yourself from me,” the angel answered, nearly whining. “You deserve to be yourself all the way, you know? Like a bird that's got the pretty feathers with all the colors and things but it's putting on a big stuffy coat and covering them up. And I wanna see… your feathers."

"Eloquent metaphor,” Crowley said drily. “Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes, Crowley, I'm drunk, not stupid."

"Jury's out on that one."

Finally, Aziraphale pulled back to give Crowley the sternest look he could manage, speaking firmly. "I'm asking you to open the floodgates and tell me how you feel. Please."

Crowley threw his hands up in the air, and the Bentley kept driving, well accustomed to his dramatics. Confident that he could focus his full attention on Aziraphale without crashing the car, Crowley turned his head to face him, a distressed frown on his face and a wrinkle between his brows. He floundered for a moment with his mouth open before finding the words to answer the angel. 

"I feel like I'm on fire! Are you happy?” Crowley realized too late that he was shouting as he winced at the sound of his voice in the small space of the car. He took a calming breath and spoke softer, his voice beginning to shake. “I feel like every moment that I'm not touching you is a hundred years in the pit. Sometimes I feel like my eyes will melt out of my skull if I look directly at you. I want you so bad it kills me every single day. I keep these things locked up inside my head because if I let myself think about it for even a second then I would never stop."

As soon as he finished talking, Crowley regretted it. He barely had enough time to consider that it might not be so bad if the Bentley veered into a ditch before Aziraphale spoke in a small but steady voice, murmuring, "What if I don't want you to stop?"

Crowley breathed a bitter sound that was half scoff, half laugh, returning his eyes to the road so he wouldn’t have to see the pity in the angel’s expression. "Don’t say that,” he snapped. “It’s ridiculous. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again."

Confused and concerned, Aziraphale frowned and placed a reassuring hand on the demon’s shoulder. Crowley flinched slightly, causing Aziraphale’s frown to deepen with a hint of his own wounded feelings, but the angel pushed through it to speak. "That's nonsense, m'boy. It's all quite fine, it's natural."

"Please don't be all understanding and nice," the demon groaned. "I can't take it right now. I want to boil my own skin off."

"That's a turn-on."

"Don't – don't – don't do that."

"What'm I doing?"

Crowley inhaled sharply and spoke through his teeth. "You're mocking me," he said. "I'm already hoping you're too drunk to remember any of this tomorrow, I could do without being made fun of."

Curiously, Aziraphale pouted, jutting out his lip and looking up at the demon through his lashes. "I'm not mocking you. And I plan on remembering all of this."

"All of what, exactly?" Crowley was distantly aware that his tone was not very kind, but he couldn't bring himself to change it. "My humiliation? The end of our friendship?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "Only if you mean to discard our friendship in favor of something much, much better."

Crowley looked over at him, a pained look in his eyes, not breathing for a long, quiet moment. "There's nothing better than being your friend," he said at last, his voice small and soft. "That's why I put up with all of this," he added with a gesture toward the angel's drunken posture, prompting Aziraphale to sit up, suddenly looking more than a bit irritated.

"Crowley!"

"What!" 

"You're being absolutely  _ darling _ right now," the angel cooed, his expression and his voice softening just as soon as he opened his mouth. "And I love it, but I'm working toward a goal here, and it would be nice if you could pull yourself together enough to meet me in the middle."

Crowley blinked hard. "What goal? What middle? What – darling? I'm not –"

Aziraphale stretched out his neck slightly to reach the demon's face, remaining attached firmly to his side even as he leaned into a hard, clumsy kiss. Crowley gave a grunt of surprise, freezing reflexively before quickly regaining the composure necessary to push the angel away gently. 

"Aziraphale. What the Heaven has gotten into you?"

"You," the angel answered immediately, a small, wobbly smile forming on his lips. "Crowley, only you. Burrowed your way all the way to the core of me and set up camp there, you did."

"What are you talking about," Crowley said, his voice flat and hollow. 

"I  _ want _ you," Aziraphale whined. "I want you so bad I can't think straight."

Crowley felt his mouth go dry and swallowed thickly. "That could be the fact that you're positively smashed at the moment," he deflected. 

Aziraphale shook his head vehemently. "No, it's you. It's all the time, don't you understand? I push those feelings down just like you do, and I'm – I'm bloody sick of it," he announced, firm and defiant. "Why shouldn't we just do it?"

"Many, many reasons," Crowley answered quickly.

"None of them are good enough," Aziraphale replied, just as quickly. "The only thing that could change my mind would be if you told me you didn't want it. Do you not want it?"

"Christ, of course I want it, angel."

"Then tell me what you want."

Crowley looked away, then, overwhelmed by the intensity of the angel's gaze and the softness of his voice, and suddenly realized the Bentley was parked in front of his flat. She was clever, he had to admit, and rather helpful in a pinch. He heaved an exhausted sigh and turned back toward the angel. 

"I need to know you're not going to regret this," he murmured, his voice guarded and fervent. "I need to know you won't pity me or avoid me or ignore me or – or reject me, once you're sober."

Without hesitation, Aziraphale blinked, twitched his nose, and set his jaw. "There," he said, firmly and clearly. "I'm sober now. I haven't changed my mind."

Giving a slow nod of his head, Crowley considered the situation. "Well. Alright then," he said tentatively. "Let's go inside, yeah? I think we should sit with this for a while."

"If you insist," Aziraphale said, climbing out of the car and following Crowley inside, even as he rolled his eyes at the demon's unnecessary caution. 

Sitting on Crowley's sofa made for a very different atmosphere than being in his car. They sat with their bodies turned toward each other, Crowley's face turned away and staring at the floor, Aziraphale gazing openly at Crowley. Neither one said anything for rather a long time, possibly hours, and then Aziraphale scooted a bit closer, and Crowley flinched away.

"What are you doing?" the demon sputtered as if Aziraphale had tried to hit him.

"Nothing," Aziraphale answered, confused. "Just – I want to be near you."

"Why?"

"I thought I was fairly clear on that point before," the angel said drily. 

Crowley frowned, shrinking in on himself. "You were."

Aziraphale began to reach a hand out to touch him, then thought better of it. "Then why are you acting so strange?" 

"I don't know," Crowley admitted. "It's hard to… to let this happen, when I've spent six millennia trying to bury every thought of it. I just never thought it was in the realm of possibility."

“Why would you think that?” Aziraphale’s voice was soft and gentle, almost melodic. “Is it because you’re a demon and I’m an angel?”

Crowley shook his head reflexively. “Not that,” he murmured. “It’s – you’re my best friend, angel. It’s like a breach of trust, me thinking about you like that for all that time, it’s – it’s a bit creepy, is what it is. So I just always tried my best not to think about it, and hoped that you’d forgive me.”

"Allow me to set the record straight." Aziraphale waited for Crowley to meet his eyes before continuing. "There’s nothing to forgive, and you’ve nothing to feel bad about. I have thought about you in that way every single day since the dawn of time. I have always,  _ always _ wanted you. I always will."

Crowley looked unconvinced, though he was trying very hard to be convinced, so the angel tried a new tactic. "Do you know why I don't sleep?"

"I thought it was just because you don't need to," the demon replied slowly, unsure where this was going. 

"I've tried it, though," Aziraphale explained. "A few times, I've done it. And I always dreamed of you. Always. It got too much after a while, so I just stopped."

"What kind of dreams?"

"I will give you exactly one guess."

"Oh."

Aziraphale just nodded his head, moved closer until his knees grazed Crowley's, held out a tentative hand. "May I touch you, my dear?"

Crowley looked at the angel's hand as if it might burn him, as if he might want it to. "Yes, please."

When Aziraphale’s skin touched his, Crowley gasped out loud. Never mind that they had already kissed in the car, that they had discussed so much more, that he had known it was coming – it was warm and soft and utterly unexpected, the angel’s hand placed ever so gently on his cheek, making his face flush and his mouth run dry. Then Aziraphale brought his other hand up to the demon’s other cheek, cradling his face in a safe, protective hold, and Crowley whimpered, though he’d never admit it.

“Are you alright?” asked the angel, his voice wrapping around Crowley’s chest and squeezing tightly. 

“Yeah, m’fine,” Crowley replied thickly. “Just – I want –  _ fuck, _ I want you so bad.” He took a deep breath, blinked hard to focus his vision. “I’m out of my depth, here. Tell me what to do.”

Aziraphale looked at him curiously for a moment before pressing his lips together in a tight line and nodding resolutely. He wasn’t necessarily an expert either, by any means, but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was take control of a situation. “You’ll tell me if you want to stop, right? Promise me you won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I promise, angel.”

“Alright,” the angel murmured. “Would you mind undressing for me?”

Crowley tripped over his feet to comply, barely managing to catch himself with a hand on the arm of the sofa before he could embarrass himself further by face planting into the floor. Once he’d righted himself, he scrambled inelegantly to remove his shirt, his trousers, his socks. And then he stopped, hands hovering awkwardly in the air as a blush spread from his face down to his bare chest, and looked at Aziraphale with eyes full of uncertainty.

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, trying to look at the demon without making him feel too scrutinized. A warm smile rested on his lips comfortably, as if it were just the natural shape of his mouth, which they both knew it wasn’t. He breathed a reverent sigh and gave Crowley a sympathetic look.

"I do mean all of it, dearest," he said, not unkindly. "Unless you'd rather not, which is alright, but it might make the rest of this rather difficult."

Crowley swallowed hard. "No, I'll do it," he assured the angel. "I just wasn't sure if you – you know, if that was what you wanted."

Smiling brighter now, Aziraphale took both of the demon's hands in his own. "My apologies, then, that I was unclear. I want you  _ entirely _ undressed, if you please."

Retracting his hands from the angel's loose grip, Crowley began to remove his underpants. "It might help if you weren't just  _ watching _ me," he said shakily, meeting Aziraphale's heated gaze. "And – it also might help if you were, erm, doing the same."

"Oh, my word," the angel exclaimed softly, looking down at himself as if only now realizing he was still fully dressed. "Of course, dear, I wasn't thinking. Yes, I'll – here," he cut off lamely as he moved to loosen his tie, unbutton his shirt. He stripped off all his clothes efficiently and then stood before Crowley, who had used the intervening time to calm himself a bit.

Only, now – now they were both naked and standing all too close to each other and Crowley could feel the heat radiating from the angel's skin and it made him want nothing more than to _ touch. _ Maybe it was a strange situation, maybe he should have felt more awkward than he did, but it was just so easy in that moment to lift a hand and trace the soft curve of Aziraphale’s stomach, trailing his fingers up and up over his ribs and his chest, until they came to rest on the side of the angel’s neck. Aziraphale leaned into the touch ever so slightly, letting out a pleased little hum, and brought his own hand up to cover the demon’s.

“I presume you have a bed?” he said, quiet and knowing, one eyebrow raised.

“Mm, yeah,” Crowley answered distantly. 

Luckily, Aziraphale didn’t wait for Crowley to come back to himself before grabbing the demon by the wrist and leading him toward the bedroom. Crowley didn’t question how Aziraphale knew where to go, nor the confidence with which the angel acted as he guided Crowley to his room. He stared at the place where their hands were touching, eyes wide and dazed, and followed where he was led, willingly and enthusiastically.

Once in the bedroom, Aziraphale wasted no time in getting Crowley situated on the bed and climbing on after him. He hovered over the demon on all fours for a minute, one knee planted firmly between Crowley’s legs and the other pressing in against his hip, the angel’s hands braced on either side of Crowley’s head, eyes roving over his face and body hungrily. 

“My  _ God, _ you’re gorgeous,” the angel whispered wonderingly, just before swooping down to kiss him. He relished the low groan that it elicited from Crowley, deepening the kiss with one hand on the demon’s face, licking along his lower lip and into his mouth with a singular determination. It was a good kiss, a solid kiss, that went on for a few minutes before Aziraphale pulled away, lips tingling and breaths coming in shallow bursts.

“Why’d you stop?” Crowley whined, his voice rough.

The angel smiled down at him, a beatific thing, rosy-cheeked and sparkling-eyed. “I had hoped we could move on to bigger and better things,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. 

“Oh?” Crowley could hardly breathe the word, affected as he was. “Like what?”

“Well, that’s all up to you,” Aziraphale said casually, belying the slight tremor of nerves that ran through him. “Whatever you want.”

Crowley frowned, an exaggerated pout of his lips accompanied by wide eyes and a hand cupping the angel’s face, a thumb grazing his cheek. “I  _ wanted  _ you to keep kissing me,” he said petulantly, and then softened significantly to continue, “but anything will do, really.”

Closing his eyes and giving a soft hum of approval, Aziraphale nuzzled his cheek into the demon’s touch before turning his head to place a kiss in the center of his palm. “I know you’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Crowley’s skin as he spoke, “and you know  _ I’ve  _ thought about this. I can tell you everything I’ve imagined, if you want, but I’d like to hear your ideas, as well.”

"I just – I don't want to scare you off," Crowley mumbled, shame taking over as he retracted his hand and turned his face away, hiding from the angel.

Aziraphale gave a disappointed sigh, tilted his head in an attempt to catch the demon's eye. He frowned, a deep wrinkle forming between his brows, and spoke softly. "I don't know how to make you believe that I want this as badly as you do."

Crowley scoffed. "You can't," he said plainly. "Not ever. Like if I tried to convince you I like books as much as you do."

Finding himself uncharacteristically lost for words, Aziraphale let out a huff of frustration and exasperation. He stared at Crowley for a while as if trying to solve a puzzle, and then he surged forward all at once to kiss him again, warm and languid, hands on the sides of his face holding him in place. As he felt Crowley's pliant lips give way and respond to him, Aziraphale deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into the demon's mouth and exploring with heated abandon.

Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back. "Permit me to lay out some facts?" he asked rather politely, as if he weren't flushed and hot and highly aroused.

Crowley blinked several times, recovering from emotional whiplash, before he could speak again. "Yeah," he replied vaguely, "go ahead."

Aziraphale gave a small, satisfied nod and dove into a clinical-sounding explanation. "It's just that, for starters, I  _ am _ naked and in your bed," he said. "That should be argument enough, really, but – I'll go on. You should know these things."

"What things?" Crowley interrupted, overflowing with nervous energy.

"I'm getting there," the angel chided him softly. He took a deep breath, leveling the demon with a look that landed somewhere between adoration and pity, and then he spoke, fervent and sincere. "You should know that I long for you, day and night, that I miss you dreadfully when you're not around. You should know that I could drown in you and it wouldn't be enough, I would still want more of you. You should know that I don't remember the last time I touched myself without thinking of you. You should know that there's nothing in the universe that I wouldn't do for you, to you, with you, if you asked. And I suppose, when it comes down to it, you should know that I love you, deeply and dearly."

Crowley tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sort of groan. His mouth was dry, his throat constricted, and he couldn't get enough air to push any words out. He took a long moment to gather his wits, swallowed hard, and finally managed to rasp out, "Oh. Okay."

To his credit, Aziraphale understood the sentiment behind the somewhat underwhelming response. “Yes, quite,” he murmured, smiling fondly at the demon. “Is that good enough for you? Have I done the requisite wooing and seducing?”

“Yeah," Crowley said softly. "Would've gone much faster if you'd led with that last bit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time,” said the angel. “What do you want right now?”

“I want you to fuck me," Crowley blurted out at last, like letting go of the release valve on a pressure cooker.

His face heated up instantaneously as the words left his mouth, making him feel as if he would combust. He turned his head away from Aziraphale, but that didn't stop the angel from dipping down to nose into the crook of his neck. As he pressed a messy open-mouthed kiss to the demon's pulse point, Aziraphale groaned low in his throat and ran a hand down Crowley's side, smoothed along his ribs and barely-defined abs to subsequently grab a handful of the demon's ass.

"I can do that," the angel muttered hotly against Crowley's skin. "Gladly."

Tensing up considerably, Crowley looked at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Do you – are you sure? You don’t have to – I mean, it’s just an idea, and we can do something else, if you want.”

“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale chided gently, “you should know that there’s nothing I want more.”

Crowley swallowed audibly and cleared his throat in vain, as his voice still came out hoarse and quiet. “Oh. Alright. Then… okay. Thank you.”

Chuckling fondly under his breath, Aziraphale turned to kiss the demon’s neck again, pausing to suck a mark into the skin over his sharp collarbone, grinning at the gasp it elicited from him. The angel's hands were in constant motion, grabbing and touching every part of Crowley that he could reach. 

After letting out a frankly embarrassing moan, the demon placed a hand on Aziraphale's cheek, bringing his face up to look in his eyes. "Angel," he began tentatively, quietly, "do you – would you mind – I still don't know what to do. I mean, I've done this before, but not – not like this. Can you help me?"

"I can," Aziraphale answered, "if you want."

"I do," Crowley said quickly. "It just – it feels safer, having you in control. I trust you more than I trust me in this situation. Does that make sense?"

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in to press another tender kiss to Crowley's lips. "Of course it does," he soothed the demon. "I am incredibly fortunate and grateful to have your trust, and I will do everything I can to be worthy of it."

"Bless it all, angel,” Crowley breathed. “Please,  _ please  _ fuck me.”

"I've been trying all afternoon," replied the angel, fond and exasperated.  _ "You've _ been stalling, my dear, and now that we're past all that, I should rather like to take my time with you."

Crowley found that his lungs were entirely bereft of air, and his only option as far as a response was the involuntary blush that spread quickly from his face down to his chest. Aziraphale watched his skin darken and heat up, eyes hungry and hypnotized, before moving to pepper a trail of kisses down the center of his chest, basking in the way the demon squirmed beneath him.

"Crowley, my love," the angel murmured, nosing along the line of his lower ribs, "tell me something."

"Anything, angel, anything you want."

"Will you let me do this again?"

The question pressed into Crowley's skin like a white-hot brand, a shock to his system, a bone-deep bruise. He looked down at Aziraphale, forehead resting against his chest, staunchly refusing eye contact. Crowley couldn't quite describe the way Aziraphale's trembling form struck him, how suddenly he realized that Aziraphale was wound up so tight waiting for an answer.

"Again and again and again," Crowley replied, barely a breath. "Over and over for the rest of forever, angel, I promise."

Aziraphale exhaled shakily, hot air ghosting over Crowley's ribs. His relief was palpable, and it was only then that Crowley realized that he had forgotten something terribly important.

"You know I love you, yeah?"

"Yes, my dear," Aziraphale replied, though again his being flooded with relief. He placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the demon's skin, then another, then another, exploring the expanse of his chest and stomach before pulling himself up to face Crowley again. "Shall I tell you what I plan to do with you?"

_ "Please." _

"Oh, very good,” said the angel, an awed whisper full of heat and tenderness. “I do like to hear that. I will definitely make that happen again later. But first, tell me: how would you like me to take you?"

"Hmm?" Crowley tried not to let the whine come out too much in his voice. "Fff – fuck'sss  _ sake, _ angel."

Aziraphale gave the demon a serene smile, stroking a gentle hand up and down his thigh. "I need an answer, dear,” he murmured.

"From behind," Crowley replied, before he could stop himself. He was relieved, actually, that that was what his mind came up with under pressure, because it was an advantageous position for avoiding embarrassment. Growing more sure of himself, he nodded. "Yeah, angel, fuck me from behind."

Aziraphale tutted, looking at Crowley with a slight pout. "That rather puts a damper on my plans," he said with a veneer of manufactured disappointment, "because I would so love to look at your face when I make you come."

Ignoring the whimper that escaped the demon, Aziraphale continued, his breezy and businesslike tone belying how affected he was. "I suppose needs must,” he sighed. “I shall just have to do it twice."

This time, the noise that Crowley made was a bit harder to ignore. Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, studied the demon’s face carefully. "Would you like that?” he asked, leaning in close, wrapping his plump fingers around Crowley’s cock, already painfully hard. “I'm going to tend to you just like this until I see you come, and then I'll fuck you, just the way you want it. Does that sound good?"

Crowley gasped as soon as Aziraphale touched him. By the end of the angel’s question, he had almost lost all brain faculties, and it was all he could do to eke out half of a word: “Yuh.”

Aziraphale released his hold on Crowley just as suddenly as he had gotten started. "I didn't quite catch that,” he said, tilting his head expectantly so his ear was to Crowley’s face.

"Yes, angel, please please please,” the demon begged shamelessly as soon as he was capable of stringing words together. “I want it, I need it,  _ please, _ I'll do anything."

"Very well," Aziraphale said with a smile. "Lucky for you, all I want you to do is lie back and let me touch you. Can you do that?"

"Mmfff," Crowley groaned, nodding his head decisively to cover for the fact that he had once again gone nonverbal. 

"Of course you can, lovely thing." Aziraphale stretched forward to kiss the demon, one hand braced on the bed while the other smoothed gently down his side, ghosting over his ribs, his stomach, his hip. And then he pulled back, severing the kiss just in time to see Crowley's face when the angel's hand closed around his length again. 

It was a good face. Crowley's perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up, his eyes growing wide and round, his well-kissed lips parted just the slightest bit. Aziraphale watched closely, memorizing every flinch and twitch, and stroked Crowley's cock with a loose grip and a gentle pace, not wanting to overwhelm him or rush any part of it. 

"You're doing so well for me," the angel cooed, twisting his wrist and reveling in the way Crowley bit his lip to stifle a noise. 

The demon's eyes were closed, screwed shut tightly as he focused on taking sharp breaths through his nose, avoiding embarrassing sounds and uncomfortable eye contact as best he could. Aziraphale simply watched his face and continued stroking him steadily, occasionally rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip of Crowley's cock or holding him with a firmer hand just to see his cheeks darken, to hear the shaky exhale that sometimes devolved into a whine or a whimper.

It was easy for Aziraphale to tell when Crowley was close to orgasm, paying such close attention as he was. The demon's breathing sped up, his muscles tensed, and he found it increasingly difficult to stay quiet and still. Aziraphale was mesmerized, but he managed to pull himself out of his trance to whisper softly to the demon.

"Crowley, my dear, will you look at me? Look at me and come for me? Can you do that?"

Crowley forced his eyes open, though he kept them narrowed and looked sidelong at the angel, afraid of the profound intimacy of making direct eye contact. It was good enough for Aziraphale, who remained steadfastly enraptured with Crowley's face even as the demon came, spilling over his fist. He looked at Crowley's eyes at the moment of his peak, saw the yellow roll back slightly, and then stroked him through it, watching as Crowley's mouth twisted into different shapes, though it didn't much affect the sounds he was making. 

When Crowley came down from his high, hazy and flushed, he finally looked at Aziraphale properly. They sat in shock and wonderment for a long moment, nothing but the sound of their breaths and their heartbeats and their eyes burning into each other with a frightening vulnerability. 

Eventually, Aziraphale broke the spell. Rather, he broke the silence, but he made the crackling electric atmosphere ten times more intense when he looked down at his hand, then back up at Crowley's face, and licked his lips idly. 

"Oh, dear," the angel murmured, his voice rough and low, "it seems you've made a bit of a mess."

Crowley let out a breath in one quick burst, sounding almost affronted, but mostly surprised. He tried to say something to the effect of defending himself, but he hardly got past a few stammered syllables before Aziraphale silenced him with a knowing look.

Slowly, the angel raised his hand, staring curiously at the mess of Crowley's come on his fingers, until it was at eye level. Crowley watched him the whole time, unmoving, waiting for him to say something, do something.

"Would you like to clean it up?" 

Crowley choked on air, making an entirely unbecoming noise. It took only a second for him to recover, look Aziraphale in the eyes, and nod his head. He leaned forward, mouth wide open, and met the movement of the angel's hand with enthusiasm. 

Maintaining heated, severe eye contact, the demon hungrily licked his own seed from Aziraphale's hand. His tongue slid over the angel's skin, sucking and moaning, making filthy slurping noises around those plump fingers while Aziraphale watched.

This continued well after the angel's hand was clean, the two of them engrossed in it, each spurred on by the other's desire. Crowley let his mouth fall open once more, Aziraphale's fingers sitting heavy on his tongue, and the angel responded with a soft, awed sigh, stroking gently down the center of the demon’s tongue before slowly thrusting two fingers in deep. 

Humming pleasantly, Crowley closed his lips around them again, feeling fingertips nudge the back of his throat. His eyes closed and he let out another satisfied moan, at which point Aziraphale removed his fingers, trailing wet fingertips feather-light down the demon's cheek before pulling his hand back completely. 

"Perfect," whispered the angel. "Gorgeous,  _ perfect _ thing. Do you still want me to fuck you?"

Crowley didn't hesitate to give a jerky nod of his head, his pupils blown wide and his breaths ragged and uneven. "Yeah," he replied with a crack in his voice. "Please, angel."

"Good. Turn over, will you?"

The demon complied, flipping over on his stomach before pushing himself up on his hands and knees, turning to watch the angel over his shoulder. Aziraphale grabbed him, fingertips digging into sharp hipbones, and pulled up and back until Crowley's ass was flush with his stomach, his erection pressing insistently against the demon's thigh. 

As the angel pulled him about effortlessly, Crowley dropped from his hands down to his elbows, partly a result of being wrenched off balance, partly just too overwhelmingly aroused to hold himself up any longer. Aziraphale chuckled at this, reaching forward to smooth a palm over the demon's shoulderblade. It could have been a calming gesture or a patronizing one, but mostly it served to make Crowley shudder from head to toe, his nerves on fire.

Aziraphale cooed, continuing to pet Crowley's shoulder gently, and murmured, "Alright there, dear?"

"Yeah," came the demon's ragged reply. "I jussst – I need you inside me, like, yesterday."

“In good time," the angel assured him, punctuating the statement with a soft kiss to his back. "I want to savor the experience.”

Crowley whimpered at that, dropping his head and pressing his face into the sheets as Aziraphale moved his hand down to the small of the demon’s back, pressing in and forward to insinuate his other hand between his cheeks. He pressed one finger, miraculously slicked, against the demon’s hole, purring in satisfaction when Crowley pushed back with a whine. He pressed in without much ado, fucking in and out slowly, rubbing small circles into Crowley’s back with his free hand as the demon moaned openly. 

After a short while, Crowley groaned roughly, whined, “More, angel, please.”

The angel complied, pressing two fingers inside steadily, whispering soft encouragements to him all the while. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he said, “so very well for me.”

“Do you like that?” he murmured gently when Crowley’s breath hitched in response to a movement of his fingers. Crowley nodded fervently, pressed back against him once more, and Aziraphale smiled. “There you are, my sweet thing. Do you want another?”

The demon cried out shamelessly, forced himself to stammer some semblance of an affirmative, though it could by no means be categorized as a word.

Aziraphale breathed a quiet sigh, rutting gently against Crowley’s hip as he pulled his fingers out only to push three back in, flexing and twisting them, hitting the demon’s prostate just so lightly. Crowley arched his back and keened, long and low, his cock twitching in renewed interest. As the demon fell apart more and more under his touch, Aziraphale continued cooing soft praises, his cock on Crowley’s hip hard and leaking, until he was sure the demon was prepared.

A wretched shout escaped Crowley when the angel slipped his fingers out, and Aziraphale shushed him with a soothing hand on his back. “I’m going to fuck you now,” said the angel, matter-of-fact but still painfully gentle.

Crowley laughed, a sharp huff of breath pushed out without humor. It was something like relief, really, at the fact that Aziraphale had so plainly stated his intentions, hadn’t tried to skirt around it or ask him a question, because the demon was so far past the ability to form coherent sentences. Aziraphale didn’t so much ignore the sound as he continued with the implicit understanding of exactly where it came from. That was rather the lovely thing about Aziraphale, in Crowley’s estimation; he always understood.

The other lovely thing about him, as Crowley soon found out, was the heavy, torturous pressure of his cock as it pressed against the demon's entrance. Crowley hadn't gotten a proper look before, caught up as he was with the whole whirlwind of emotion and activity, so it was a pleasant surprise to feel Aziraphale's thick cock breaching his hole. He had never given much thought to how  _ big _ the angel would be, and really anything would have been bliss for the demon, but the delicious stretch was something transcendent.

Aziraphale pushed into him slowly, rocking his hips forward in gentle, deliberate movements, a bit deeper each time. Crowley held his breath the whole time, bit back various hisses and gasps. He was unwilling to miss a single moment of this, laser focused on the cock carving out a path inside him and the little grunts and moans the angel couldn't hold back.

When Aziraphale bottomed out, he froze for a long moment. Crowley whimpered quietly, overly aware of the sensation and so, so ready for it to escalate.

"Oh, Crowley," the angel murmured almost inaudibly, "you feel incredible."

"Ditto, angel," Crowley replied, the words muffled against the sheets. He turned his head to the side to speak more clearly, though his voice was still rough and quiet. "You, you're – it's all so much better than I ever imagined."

"Do you have any  _ idea _ how much I love you?" Aziraphale asked suddenly, as if it were the natural next step in the conversation. 

Crowley moaned, choking on a lump in his throat, and pressed back against the angel. "Aziraphale,  _ please," _ he whined. "I need you to move, I need you to  _ fuck  _ me." 

That was all it took for Aziraphale to give in, at least as desperate himself as Crowley was. He established a firm grip on the demon's hips and squeezed, a reassuring gesture, a soothing reminder, and then he was pulling out, only the tip of his cock remaining held in the tight heat of the demon, before pushing back in to the hilt. It was a powerful thrust, albeit not a particularly fast one, knocking the wind out of Crowley and leaving him breathless.

He was caught off his guard, then, when Aziraphale kept moving. Crowley knew that this was how these things went, but he had no time to recover as the angel fucked him with relentless, calculated force, as if he had done this a thousand times, as if he knew exactly what would take Crowley apart completely. 

There was little left to say, once they were in the swing of it, once they had established a steady rhythm. But of course that didn't stop the near constant string of praise from Aziraphale, nor the rambling, incoherent adoration from Crowley, in amongst the sounds of their gasps and moans and panting breaths and skin on skin.

"You feel amazing," Aziraphale said, running a hand down Crowley's side from his ribs to his hip. "You're wonderful, so tight, so good for me."

He moved both hands to the demon's ass, spreading him open to see the place where their bodies were connected, where they merged into one being, where Aziraphale was  _ inside _ Crowley, and how could he not see the symbolism in that? How could he watch the way his cock disappeared as he pushed inside and not be positively overwhelmed by how  _ perfect _ it was?

"I've been so – so  _ empty _ without you," Crowley moaned, low and plaintive. "So fucking empty. You don't even know, angel."

"I think I can somewhat understand the feeling," the angel answered breathlessly, "if it's anything like how  _ hungry _ I've been for you."

Crowley choked out a half-sob, his shoulders shaking. "Why did we wait so long? Why did we wait?"

Aziraphale shook his head in disbelief, grunting as he drove inside with a forceful thrust. "Stupid," he muttered, "I've been stupid."

"Both of us," the demon corrected.

"Not anymore, though," Aziraphale promised fervently. "I'm never letting you go now. I could keep you just like this forever."

Reaching back toward the spot where hot fingertips dug into his hips, Crowley grabbed desperately at the angel's hand, not to move it, but to hold it in place, press those fingers deeper into his skin. "Please," he whined. "Need you inside me always."

"You're so lovely, letting me have this from you, letting me in," Aziraphale murmured in reply, the words falling from his lips without a thought. "You look beautiful like this, taking my cock so well."

Crowley could do little except shake and babble through the sounds punched out of him with each snap of the angel's hips. "Fuck, you're so  _ good. _ Love how you fuck me, so good,  _ so _ good."

Aziraphale moved the hand that wasn't slowly going numb under Crowley's grip up his back, stroking between his shoulderblades, twisting his fingers into the demon's hair and tugging. "You like that?" he asked roughly. 

"Yesss, angel, I'm so close."

"Me too, me too," said the angel, pulling at Crowley's hair again when he groaned in response. He leaned down over Crowley's back, fucking into him with slow purpose at a new angle, and whispered hotly in his ear. "You want me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you deep, fill you with my come?"

Crowley gasped and let out a breathless moan. "Please, angel, let me have it. I need it, I  _ need _ it."

"I'll give it to you," Aziraphale assured him, "I'll give you everything."

Crowley was all but openly weeping by this point, his cock hard and leaking as Aziraphale fucked him with renewed purpose, chasing his own release. With a few decisive thrusts that rattled Crowley to his very foundation, Aziraphale finally crested the wave, pushing in deep and holding there as he came. The hot, full sensation of the angel's come spilling inside him pushed Crowley over the edge, and he whimpered through his second orgasm, grabbing desperately at the sheets.

Aziraphale groaned as the demon clenched tight around him, wringing him out until he was so overstimulated he thought he might cry. When Crowley came down from his high, relaxed his muscles and slumped down on the bed, the angel slipped his spent cock out and moved to lie next to him. The demon held his position for a moment or two, until Aziraphale reached up to gently card fingers through his hair, at which point Crowley whimpered and pushed himself up to turn over and lie down to face him. 

"That was really good," Crowley murmured roughly, his eyes wide and sincere. "I never – never even hoped it could be that good."

Aziraphale frowned, the smallest downturn of his lips, and reached up idly to stroke the demon's cheek. "No?"

Crowley's eyes fluttered closed and he shook his head. "Always hoped you'd love me one day, hoped you'd touch me," he said, leaning into the angel's touch and humming pleasantly. "But I – how could I have  _ imagined _ it would be like this?"

"I knew," the angel replied softly. "I always knew. How could it have been anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

Moving in until their noses were touching, Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the corner of the demon's mouth before answering. "It's us. We may have bumps in the road, but it's always going to be perfect, as long as it's us."

"I love you," Crowley mumbled, too tired to come up with anything more sophisticated, but it was good enough for Aziraphale.

"I love you," the angel replied, "so  _ very _ much."

Crowley moved closer, burrowing into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, throwing an arm over the angel to wrap around his soft middle. Aziraphale brought his own arm down from the demon's face to press a warm palm against his back, pulling him in and holding him tight. 

They lay there in near silence for a long while. Crowley memorized the pattern of Aziraphale's breathing. Aziraphale categorized the scent of Crowley's hair, a tantalizing mix of sex and sweat and cinnamon and vanilla, and decided it was his new favorite smell. Every so often, the angel would turn his head just slightly to kiss the demon's head, and he would offer an answering kiss to the angel's throat, and they would both smile. 

Eventually, Crowley drifted off to sleep. A short time later, Aziraphale did the same. When he dreamt of Crowley, it was only an echo, a shadow of the real thing, but he didn't wake up disappointed or longing, as he always had before. He woke up to the real thing; specifically, Crowley's mouth, as well as soft conversation in bed with nowhere pressing to be, a hot shower, a breakfast date, and a great many whispered promises of forever.


End file.
